


The Expert Lockpick

by ElZacharie



Series: RvB Angst War [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Physical Disability, RvB Angst War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElZacharie/pseuds/ElZacharie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent New York can pick any lock and take any joke thrown his way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Expert Lockpick

**Author's Note:**

> It was bound to happen. As someone who has no depth perception and a weak eyesight in one eye, not to mention a York in their system, it makes me upset when people play off York's lockpicking ability post-Tex as a joke, that he was never good in the first place. Except for the fact we never saw him pick a lock with his eyesight intact, and he wouldn't have been the resident hacker and lockpick for a private black ops organization if he were so inept.

Agent York could take a joke, so long as it was funny. He didn't mind having pranks pulled on him, so long as he could join in on the laughter. York liked jokes.

This was not a joke.

When he first faced his teammates after the incident in the training room, they stared at him with guilt and horror-- Maine and Wyoming had the decency to not make it obvious, at least. The silence was deafening, so he cracked a joke.

It worked. Everyone laughed and smiled.

At first, the jokes were funny, and he welcomed them with open arms.

It was when he came upon a holographic lock for the first time being redeployed, however, when the jokes grew stale.

The doctors had told him that his eyesight couldn't be repaired, that he'd only see hazy shapes and colors out of that eye on the best of days. It hurt to force it focus, to add more detail to match its brother, but he hadn't thought it was a problem.

They hadn't told him about the holographic locks. They hadn't told him that he had no depth perception anymore.

The alarms continued to blare in his ears as the Pelican took off, his mind working through the lock again, trying to get his fingers not to press the wrong button, to see the layers in the lock.

That was when someone made fun of his failure.

The jokes continued, and he tried to humor them. He'd force a smile and laugh, then excuse himself, to find something to ease the knots in his stomach.

At night, when Carolina was too exhausted to train, York would pull up a hologram of that same lock and stare at it. When he tried to pick it in his earlier sessions, he'd fuck up somehow and FILLS would blare an alarm, and he'd curse, getting louder and angrier each time until a patrol came in and told him to book it.

He couldn't pick the lock, so now he just stared.

A monument to his failure. The joke to his living punchline. The evidence that Agent New York was no longer fit to serve Project Freelancer, please pack your things and get your ass on a shuttle back home.

**Author's Note:**

> leonerdchurch.tumblr.com


End file.
